


find a penny, pick it up

by mollivanders



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, Gen, On the Run, Post-Series, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s like a bad penny; keeps popping up in places he doesn’t expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	find a penny, pick it up

**Author's Note:**

> **Title: find a penny, pick it up**  
>  Fandom: LOST  
> Rating: PG  
> Characters: Kate/Sawyer  
> Author's Note: For the prompt _i have buried you every place i've been; you keep ending up in my shaking hands_. Word Count - 1,269. Spoilers through the finale.  
>  Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_01._

She’s like a bad penny; keeps popping up in places he doesn't expect.

(Brings plenty of damage with her, too.)

When he sees her across the bar he nearly moves over a couple seats but she only looks at him once before calling for her tab. She hasn’t changed a bit, hair long and curly, falling down her back. Her clothes are different, more civilized, like she’s come from somewhere important.

(He doesn’t want to know.)

But he’s practiced enough of a con man to pretend her being here doesn’t matter and he drinks his whiskey in peace until she’s out the door. Tosses a ten on the counter as soon as she’s gone and slips out the back door, quiet as the night, and seeks out another bar – finds a girl all in red with bright blue eyes who likes his Southern drawl.

Old habits, and all.

(It’s not her fault; she just brings it on.)

_02._

It’s almost a year before he sees her again, leaving Claire’s, and he should have known better, but Miles didn’t mention she was still coming around. She doesn’t see him, or if she does she just marches onward while he hides in his truck. She’s walking taller these days, and then he hates himself for noticing.

(It’s not her fault, but he’s only human.)

When he gets inside Miles and Claire look surprised and a little worried, but he skips mentioning seeing Kate and they don’t bring her up. Aaron plays on the floor at Claire’s feet and doesn’t seem to recognize Sawyer’s voice, which is for the best.

Not that he knows anything about that.

(Not today.)

_03._

Three months later she runs in to him at the grocery store and he curses when he drops his basket, fresh milk exploding all over Aisle Three.

The first words out of his mouth are “You stalking me?” Watches the flicker of familiarity and friendship slip right out of her eyes behind those guarded walls he knows so damn well.

“Long time, no see,” she says and steps right over the mess he made, a jar of peanut butter clenched tight in her hand. “Kate,” he says, is able to manage just that one word to make her look back at him, crouched over his spilled groceries, and then sighs, shakes his head.

“Good seeing you,” he lies, and watches her walk away.

_04._

Maybe he’ll never see her again. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s better that way.

But he lies awake too many nights to pretend he’s not wondering where she is, who’s she’s with, if she thinks about the island. What parts she remembers, who she tries to forget. The lists run through his head, and no matter what routine he manages to pull himself into, well – 

Tiger don’t change its stripes.

(She always knew just when to leave.)

Two years gone she steps behind him in line at the airport and he could jump out of his skin but he pretends like it’s nothing. He’s getting used to that, all over, with her. Pretends he doesn’t hear her getting on the same flight as him, out to L.A.X. for Claire and Miles’ wedding.

Some small mercy put him two rows ahead of her, first class, but Kate – well, she never played an easy hand well. He should have remembered. An hour into the flight she drops into the empty seat across from him, flags down the server for a drink, and leans over her armrest to stare at him.

“Hi,” she says, and that one word makes an old familiar thrum build in his stomach. He can’t not study the way her skin’s all tan, or how there are lines near her eyes now, and how she almost looks underfed compared to how they were on the island. Wonders if she’s running again until he remembers to snap his eyes back up to hers and he’s a damn fool but there’s a crinkle of amusement there.

(It’s not fair, and it never was, with her. Never will be.)

“How’ve you been?” she asks, patient, and he leans back in his seat.

“Been worse,” he quips and relaxes when she mirrors him. “Wedding?” he asks, and when she hums her response he wants to reach right over and –

(The plane lands without a hitch.)

_05._

“Be safe, Sawyer,” she says when she leaves the rehearsal, and he doesn’t know what makes him do it. Could be the champagne, but he’s always been able to hold his liquor. Could be the California air, but it’s cold for June and part of him thinks he just knows what to expect from her. Even if it’s the worst.

He sort of expects her to take off tonight, figures he'll tempt fate some more.

“Going so soon, Freckles?” he asks, two paces behind her at the hotel door and smirks when she whirls to face him before she catches herself. “That’s what I thought,” he says, closes the distance between them to kiss her in the night, her taste familiar and her skin desperately warm against him.

“Yeah,” she says, pulling away from him suddenly, breath short but eyes sharp. “Got plans.”

(He doesn’t want to believe her.)

_06._

It’s nearly 3 a.m. after the wedding when his phone rings, with one shoe off and a rising buzz in his head.

“I’m outside,” she says, voice tinny through his hotel phone. It makes his head ache, and he pinches his forehead. “And you want me to what, exactly?” he asks, not in the mood to go all the way downstairs and start this game all over again.

“Open the door,” she says, and hangs up.

(Four paces to the door, one twist to swing it open and she’s standing there before him, again.)

He’s never seen her like this, not really. This look was off island, more formal. Washed, even. The dress she wore – there – was nothing like this. No bridesmaid’s dress.

“You look good in green,” he says finally and she actually laughs, eyes crinkling as she steps up to the threshold. “I went shopping,” she replies, sounding downright girlish, so he pulls her through the door and lets her stumble with him back to the bed.

“Don’t tell me you missed me, Freckles,” he says and she snorts once before he flips them over, runs a hand down her side.

“You always knew how to sweet talk a girl,” she says, her breath tickling his ear, before he finds the clasp and pulls her fancy new dress off. “Darling, some things don’t change,” he reminds her, kisses her mouth shut and she curls against him.

(She’s gone in the morning.)

_07._

He’s not surprised. Not in the least. Tells himself this when the bright light hits his eyes and there’s too much space in the bed, and tells himself this a week, two weeks later. It’s Kate, after all. Tiger, stripes, running, conning. All that and more, and he knows it better than most. Better than her, some days.

(Just not this day.)

But he sleeps easier these days, spends fewer nights staring at his ceiling, more nights planning how to stay in one spot. Buys a real phone and leaves his number with Claire and Miles, just in case. Strains his ears to hear a knock at his door, a call from the other room.

Figures it’s only a matter of time before she finds him again. 

_08._

(The knock on his door comes in its own sweet time.

This time, she sticks around.

She’s a bad penny like that.)

_Finis_


End file.
